Skinny Love
by skrewtkeeper
Summary: Albus begins to wonder if it's too late to admit he has feelings for Minerva when she tells him something that turns his world inside out. Why was love so bitterly painful? Response to "Refur". MMAD.


**A/N:** _This, my readers, has been an undeniable amount of work these last few weeks. If you can believe it, I have over 4,000 words that I removed, thinking them unworthy. Hopefully all of this work (editing even up until the second before I posted it...hours and hours and hours and hours of work work work!) has been worth it. I eagerly present to you the response to "Refur", written almost entirely in Dumbledore's point-of-view. Also, please note that this is NOT a song fic—I did however listen to this song (by Bon Iver) a lot while writing it and feel the title suits it and the emotions Albus was experiencing during this piece. I have a song intended for Minerva to use in this way, and I hope to write it when I have a good enough idea. ;) Now sit back and enjoy the movie—uh, story! Yes, story! -_- HUZZAH! BUTTERFLIES WORKKKK! Okay, before I go extremely crazy because I'm so ecstatic about the butterflies, allow me to say this... they denote where I would have originally split this up into chapters, alright? (And sometimes are helpful with passages of time and stuff like that). NOW you may read on, and I hope you enjoy. Thanks to the readers who suggested I write a sequel in the first place! :D _

Skinny Love

_And I told you to be patient_  
_And I told you to be fine_  
_And I told you to be balanced_  
_And I told you to be kind_

_And now all your love is wasted_  
_And then who the hell was I?_  
_And I'm breaking at the britches_  
_And at the end of all your lines_

It had been over a month since he had found Minerva in such a predicament. True to her character, she hadn't said another word about that night and carried about her business as usual. It pained Albus because she even seemed happier now—that meant yet another promise Minerva would hang on to until it was once again ignored just like the previous ones. It hurt him to know that yet again, the snake had charmed her so easily; a woman who had such a strong hold on everything else when she wasn't in love…He didn't want to walk in on her crying again, but felt it to be a likely occurrence. He had even caught her smiling again like nothing was wrong. It was most disturbing—how could she ever believe…?

But Albus was well aware of how irrational love could be. He himself shouldn't love her so deeply—she was standing far beyond his reach. Every time he reached a little, she would reach in return and he knew the gap was truly infinitesimal to bridge. It took everything he had to not reach just a _little_ further. He dare not do anything Minerva would later regret. The embrace had been pushing it, and so he had limited himself to the occasional touch, afraid he might stick his whole foot over the line instead of a toe or two. He couldn't lose control. He _couldn't_. Not now…it'd be such a cliché even if it was the truth. Albus adored Hogwarts' Transfiguration professor. He was well-aware of just how desirable she was in appearance and in spirit. She was so…unbelievably…_gorgeous_. He was unsurprised another man had seen it and had made his move while Albus firmly pulled the wool over his eyes (to lessen the blow of devastation, he had told himself; though it hadn't helped at all).

Now, standing in his study tonight, he allowed his emotions to overwhelm him. Finally alone, he could feel whatever he had neglected to feel over the course of the day. He was irritated Matthew had obviously managed to feed Minerva more lies about how they'd see one another soon; she pined after him so painfully, it made Albus's own heart hurt. He knew he could provide a semblance of relief, but he didn't dare. He knew she would regret it; she was still married to the bastard that toyed with her heart so…it should be punishable by law; every count that he had lied to her and caused her to shed the tears she had. Why was love so bitterly painful?

He could be upset at both Minerva for the belief she had in the man she was hitched to, and himself for not doing anything while he had the chance. But he had been so old, and she so young…he should've said to hell with all the bureaucrats who had never known love in their lifetimes and just done as his heart had urged him to do. But he hadn't—he hadn't even wanted to face the disgusted faces of those who would one day find out. It had been stupid of him to dismiss it as quickly as he had. Minerva McGonagall was the only woman he had ever loved, and he knew there would never be anyone else…she had had his heart ever since the day she had told him goodbye…

"Don't forget me," she had said, almost looking frightened at the prospect of someone so wise and wonderful forgetting just a plain Jane Minerva. He had smiled at her reassuringly because he just _had_ to alleviate those fears immediately.

"I could never," he replied, bringing his lips to her hand and looking deeply into her eyes as he did so. This was the biggest display of affection he had ever shown her as a student, and he watched in surprise as her eyes widened in shock and awe. He was rewarded with the most beautiful smile from her which caused the breath to catch in his lungs—she was fully a woman now; he had noticed the changes come gradually of course, at the beginning of each school year, but the fact that she wasn't going to return the following September almost brought tears to his eyes. He was overcome with the urge to take her in his arms and just hold her close, forgetting all about her departure that was so near to the both of them. She had only an hour remaining here at the school and she would begin her Animagus training in Germany with an associate of his in a couple of weeks. It was all happening so fast…

Before he could blink, Minerva had almost whispered, "I'm really going to miss you sir," and then she was in his arms and he was holding her very feminine form very close to him; relishing in just how wonderful she felt. If this was the only time he could hold her, he just wouldn't let go when it came time for her to leave.

Despite the fact that he could tell she was crying, he chuckled warmly and said, "Come now Minerva, there will be plenty of young men in Germany; far too many for you to remember one old professor—"

"They aren't—_you_ sir," she said quietly as he released her. She was still crying, but managed to smile at him a little when he produced an oversized handkerchief that was pink and purple.

She wiped her eyes, and he said very seriously, "You can't go on the train looking like _that_, my dear!" He waved his wand and all the remaining evidence that she had shed tears vanished immediately.

Unable to control herself it seemed, she looked at him with a look he had encountered only a few times in his life. It was a look of unbridled adoration—she was completely _in love_ with him. Shocked as he was and quite unable to breathe again, he almost didn't notice as she leapt in his arms once more and said so very sweetly he repressed the urge to groan in longing, "Thank you…for _everything_ Professor. I'll never forget you."

"And I you, Minerva," he had said when words finally returned to him. "And I you…"

He had accompanied her to Hogsmeade station, waved once and left before the train had started to pull away. But he hadn't looked back. He was scared he would've run like a madman after the train if he had. It was ridiculous, but the love she had for _him_ made him want nothing more than to take her in his arms and prove to her just how worthy he was of what she surely presumed to be an unrequited love. The fact that she had said nothing prior to that day or any day before it and that he had never suspected it until her final day at school…it was such a feat of self-control. He respected her all the more for it because unattached, he knew he wouldn't have been able to control himself. She returned to the school married—as a McGonagall; _God_ why did the name suit her so much?—so he had respectfully kept his distance, but she had blossomed into even more of a woman than he remembered. It was agonizing even to watch her at times, knowing she found love in another man…

But this man was no saint, and Dumbledore surely had had enough. "I'm going to march down there and tell her, Fawkes! I'm _going_ to…I'll tell her." Even as he continued to repeat the words, he stayed right where he was, frozen near his desk.

"I need to tell her. This can't wait…"

Fawkes peered at him expectantly.

"I _will_ tell her. Tonight I'll let my desires be known…"

If he had brows, it looked as though Fawkes would've raised one at him.

"I'm going to tell her."

With almost the smallest of shakes, Fawkes conveyed his unbelief.

"She's waited long enough for someone who really cares…I will tell her before the day is over."

Fawkes blinked two expert eyes at his chosen one. He didn't seem convinced.

"It's high time I say something on the matter…I'm not getting any younger…"

His phoenix trilled at him; a soft sad note of unfulfilled dreams and wishes. Albus paused, his eyes filling with tears.

"She—she can't—" he broke off, unable to continue. Fawkes noted the change in atmosphere immediately and sought to remedy it, just like his caring master would if their positions were reversed. He took off from his perch and swooped to his companion, landing on the old man's shoulder and singing him a song of remediation—of comfort sublime. It didn't matter the song was helping him to feel better; he still began to cry.

"Oh Fawkes, what a fool I've been," he whispered.

**Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ**

Early the following morning, Albus awoke from the fitful sleep he had endured to sunlight streaming from his tall, eastern window. Even though his head slightly throbbed, he did feel much better—the sunrise always did that to him, and this morning it was glorious.

Free as he was from his immediate hurt, he paused before rising from his bed. What if Minerva rejected him? What if he caused her pain by revealing even this? Gingerly sucking in a breath, he decided he still had to try…if he no longer wanted to be tormented by his state of inaction, he needed to _take_ action. If she professed she didn't—_couldn't_ love him in the same way, perhaps he could move on, fall in love with another woman. There were surely millions out there. _But there's only one Minerva_… He sighed at this, wondering if he should just go back to sleep when the wards signaled to him that someone was approaching the spiral staircase. Bursting out of bed, Albus snatched his wand and made a few complex movements with it; his nightclothes immediately disappeared into a beautiful robe of the deepest plum, trimmed with silver fastenings. It was easily his favorite set of robes and he wore it when he was happiest. Surely wearing a robe meant for happiness would make him feel better! It also had a most magnificent purple, pauper-like hat to go with; a few silver, white, and purple feathers even protruded from the top…

Moving his wand again, he passed it over his head and beard, putting them to rights and finally, went over a charm to at least freshen his breath before he stepped out of his rooms just as his visitor knocked on the door.

Fawkes, having stayed with him throughout the night, followed him out the door and took his perch on the headmaster's shoulder in a protective fashion. Albus smiled at his feathered friend and ruffled his feathers affectionately while he called, "Enter!"

His mouth dropped open in surprise as his early-morning caller stepped inside.

It was Minerva.

_No_. No, it was far too soon! He hadn't meant to tell her before it was even time for breakfast! There were still classes for her to attend to, homework to grade, students to correct…this wasn't the time! "Good morning Albus," she said cheerfully as she made her way inside his office. When she was met with silence, she continued, "I do hope I'm not too early to call on you? This was a matter that could not wait."

"Indeed," Albus remarked darkly. Fawkes trilled in such a way that it sounded like he was chortling at his master's expense. Albus glared at him, conjured a treat and sent it sailing far across his office before he said, "Shoo!" to his persnickety feathered friend. Fawkes took off in search of the discarded treat, and left his master standing alone with the witch.

Minerva snorted. "Fawkes not treating you well?" she questioned coyly.

Albus shook his head sourly. "No, he's just a fond gossip is all." Perking up, he suggested, "Shall we adjourn to my sitting room? It would be more comfortable…"

Minerva gave her consent and Albus somewhat nervously led her there. He really hadn't expected to see her so _soon_. He had thought he would've had the time to school himself at least a bit before…

"Thank you for seeing me so early, I—"

"It's quite alright," he replied with a small smile, already knowing she was about to apologize for waking him. Hair just didn't quite look the same when you used a spell on it. He had used the spell so often that he had become quite adept at it, but there was still a subtle difference to the appearance of it; if anything, he wondered if it was a spell he himself could improve upon…it would be quite useful and people would no longer be privy to the fact that he used it so often…

Suddenly thinking of something, he asked, "Would you like to have breakfast here?"

"No…no, I don't think this will take that long…"

He nodded in understanding, and turned toward her expectantly when they both sat on the loveseat waiting there. Minerva bit her lip and suddenly seemed uncharacteristically hesitant as she stared at her lap.

He tilted his head in inquiry. "Is something the matter, Minerva?" He couldn't help it and touched her hand with his.

Minerva inhaled sharply and slightly alarmed, Albus rapidly retracted his offending appendage only to be rewarded with one of her beautiful smiles. "It's…it's not you, Albus. I'm sorry. This _is _good news…I can't understand why it's so difficult to get out…"

He chuckled in way of conveying his relief that she hadn't hissed at the physical contact from him. Even so, at least until he told her he loved her, he needed to be more careful… "I find it easier to say things when I've had copious amounts of chocolate."

"So this explains why you eat it so much," she muttered darkly, gathering her courage by wringing her hands together. Albus abruptly noticed she wasn't wearing her wedding ring. "Albus…Matthew and I are getting a divorce."

He was _so_ very tempted to jump up and down with joy, but managed to only give a few twitches of his moustache. Emboldened by this revelation, he said, "Well, I have news myself…"

Minerva held up her hand, snorting at how boyish he appeared. "I'm not finished." Sucking in a breath, she concluded with, "Albus, I'm pregnant."

**Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ**

Dumbfounded, he almost didn't hear her say, "Albus, I need advice…"

He frowned, trying to think of an honorable way out of this that didn't involve him marrying her and then having sex to cover up her pregnancy out of wedlock in any way. He was having terrible trouble… "I am not one from whom to seek advice of a legal nature," he warned finally.

Minerva nodded. "I understand, but I'm not sure if I should drag the baby into this—you are my closest friend and I'm at a loss for what to do…"

"So," he began, grappling with his uncooperative brain—how on earth was he supposed to tell her _now?_—, "you and Matthew finally did meet a month ago after the extenuating ignorance of the former eleven times he hadn't bothered to see you?"

She nodded, "Yes. It wasn't wise, but I wanted to see him at least once…maybe just to ask what the hell his problem was all this time…"

He grinned at her, but didn't say anything. "He admitted after a rather lengthy row that he had been seeing several other women," she sighed quietly and looked away; her hurt still very keen and obvious. Albus reached for her hand and stroked it.

"Thank you," she breathed with a quiet, almost unsure smile. "Perhaps it was stupid, but we decided to divorce on good terms, so I slept with him—I'm carrying _his_ child, Albus. After the divorce is finalized, we planned on not seeing one another again, but with a child, he is most certainly going to be curious about who his father was. I can't see this happening. What do I do, Albus?" she abruptly asked him, her eyes searching his as if he had the answer lingering there. "Do I not mention this child at all or—?"

Albus replaced her taken hand in her lap, and brought his hand to his beard, stroking it thoughtfully. "That depends on whether you want your son or daughter to have a father…Do you wish him or her to be exposed to the same pain you endured, where you had always been promised a visit and then hadn't seen this man? Do you think you could bear seeing your child upset at how he is never there? You think you've experienced pain now, Minerva, wait until you observe a child experience it. It is…most dreadful." He shuddered, thinking of how painful it had been to watch her receive the promise over and over again, only to have everything she had dreamed about ripped from her.

Minerva appeared thoughtful, carefully weighing her options. "Thank you," she said again, rising to her feet. Albus resisted the urge to help her stand. He was amazed he hadn't noticed it when she had come in—there certainly was something different about her at second glance, like the way she carried herself. It was still so stalwartly sure, like the woman could successfully command a fleet of men into battle, but also with a touch more grace than he was accustomed to. Without warning, he painfully understood one thing: She _wanted_ this child. She _desperately_ wanted this child. Such a fierce longing almost caused Albus to choke on his own saliva at the heartache of it all. He would've gladly given her children; he was troubled because the last sex she had had with her husband now seemed methodical and calculated—he wouldn't be surprised if Minerva believed she would never marry again after such disappointment with Matthew…he was doubly troubled, for it seemed as though Minerva believed no other man would want to have sex with her and grant her this small favor; to give her a child she so desperately wanted. It made his entire frame ache for her…

She turned to leave, but Albus wasn't going to let her go. Not this time.

"Minerva…wait," he said, approaching her from behind. She turned and he gathered her into his arms without preamble—she allowed it. "Don't tell me you were planning on going this alone."

"Well of course not," she countered feebly. Her fierceness was quite subdued when he held her close like this. "I told _you_, didn't I?"

Albus shook his head sadly. "I didn't mean that."

She sighed heavily. "What else am I to do?" she asked quietly. "What else have generations of single mothers done before me? They pressed forward even in spite of the burdens. I brought this on myself Albus—it was selfish, I know it was...but I wanted this child; I loved it even before I conceived and…"

Albus shook his head; hurt she thought she needed to explain her reasons for deceiving another to him. She should already know that he trusted her completely. "You don't need to say any more."

"Thank you," she sighed, contenting herself by standing in the embrace for a few moments longer before stepping out of his grasp. He let her go…now was not the time.

"I'll see you at breakfast then?" she asked him.

He nodded, still slightly bewildered with everything that had been shared in this room. "You surely will, just as you do every morning."

She beamed at him again, stepped close to him and pecked him on the cheek. That earned her a royal flush, but his beard and hair concealed the brunt of it. "Thank you Albus. You are certainly the most understanding friend I've ever been privileged to have."

"My pleasure, my dear," he said, bowing to her slightly. She cuffed him lightly on the arm.

"Tease," she admonished, leaving his office with a smile on her face. As soon as she left his office, Dumbledore sank heavily into a chair, processing all the things Minerva had said to him. _Now_ what?

**Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ**

There were a million images of _could-have-been_ swirling in his head; even the meeting that had just occurred, where Minerva told him about the child she was expecting—_their_ child. And the child certainly would've taken after her; would've been as beautiful and talented as she, with brilliant blue eyes…

He choked on holding back the tears. Fawkes appeared after a moment or so, but instead of singing this time, he perched upon his master's knee, and crooned at him, pecking at his nose and peering into his overfilling eyes.

"I—I've missed my chance, Fawkes," he said quietly, dismayed at how broken his voice had become in just a few short minutes. "I should've told her before—I should've said—"

Fawkes shook his head at his much-too-kind master and rubbed their foreheads together. In consolation, he gave a short little chirp, almost as if to deny—

"I can't approach her now Fawkes," Albus related miserably, looking away from his friend and staring at his very old hands. "Even though Matthew may not have been the most loving husband in the world, he was still hers and I doubt she did not have any further heartbreak. I am certain she needs time to herself right now…"

Fawkes rubbed his head over the tears on his companion's cheek and they disappeared. He gave a short, low cheep that seemed as though he were stating the obvious…

Suddenly breathing rapidly, he intoned, "Fawkes, I—confound it all you ruddy bird—I _can't!_ I _can't_ tell her! I don't even want to _suggest_ that I only wanted to warm her sheets at night! She means far more than a momentary loss! I'll wait on her until she's ready!"

But even as he shouted it at the bird who didn't seem to be listening, he wasn't sure if it was the right course himself…

**Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ**

Breakfast came right on schedule, and Albus picked up his sad feet from the floor and commanded them to move. Even with Minerva having admitted this now rather than later, she still needed his support more than ever—despite the fact that she probably was never going to admit it aloud. He sighed at the inconvenience of it all. Perhaps if he were to just…

"Good morning, Albus. Heading to breakfast?"

Pomona Sprout came up from behind—the Hufflepuffs were located near his office and he ran into her on occasion on the way to the Great Hall. Putting on his cheeriest voice, he said, "Yes Pomona. I trust the 'Puffs treated you well last night?"

There was a pregnant pause in speech, almost as if the Herbology professor suspected something was wrong (though she could be brooding over the whomping willow he had now denied her for the last three years; if it had been anyone else, they would have hated him forever), but she said, "They did indeed. 'Fraid I had to threaten a few rounds with my monstrous Venomous Tentacular for the most unruly, but they managed to quiet down in the end… not sure why they weren't sorted in Gryffindor after all. Loudest bunch of third years I've ever seen."

Albus chuckled, feeling almost like his old self. "Certain traits come to light at different ages, I believe. Perhaps the few have finally found their niche and are comfortable there."

"And what a relief too," Pomona added, sounding flustered. "'Can't say how many Firsties haven't yet, but they do well among their house and the other three…" She paused as Dumbledore opened the Great Hall's side chamber door for her. Albus's eyes immediately fixed on Minerva as he did so; she looked just the same as she had earlier as he watched her turn toward a fellow professor—just _breathtaking_.

He heard a small snicker from behind him, and rotated to find Pomona staring at him. "It appears as though the Headmaster has found his own niche as well."

His mouth dropped open in surprise and thinking to fake it, he asked, "Whatever do you mean?"

The snicker returned and the Herbology Professor's eyes gazed into his for a moment before darting at a distance and back again. Getting the message, Albus copied her movements and saw…Minerva's seated form.

"You wicked woman," he said affectionately.

Pomona laughed. "'Can't say I haven't been called that one before!" After they both continued to stand there for a moment, apparently reacquainting themselves with the back of Minerva's head as she ate, Pomona added, "I think you should _tell_ her, you old man. You aren't gettin' any younger!"

His moustache quivered horribly, but he tried to remain serious. "I'm afraid I do have the authority to fire you for cracks like those, Professor."

Pomona grinned. "But I know you won't. The staff gets along so much better with me around, don't they? I expect a raise!"

It was true. Professor Sprout seemed to know that Dumbledore was ruminating over the fact because she cackled and made her way toward her customary seat. Shaking his head and sighing, Albus gathered his courage before making his way toward his own seat.

"Ah, so you _haven't_ gone back to sleep. I was beginning to wonder…" Minerva immediately pelted him with speech, and despite how hopeless he knew it was (at least for now), he couldn't stop himself from smiling at her or from performing the actions which followed.

"There are far more important things I'd rather be doing," he remarked, taking her hand and kissing it. He was startled by Minerva blushing and turning toward her plate with a very soft smile on her lips—a most uncharacteristic move for her. Over Minerva's bowed head, he could see Pomona craning her neck around the other professors to see the exchange…she gave him a thumbs-up as he glanced at her. Smiling and shaking his head, Albus turned toward his own plate and began filling it with eggs and bacon.

Perhaps he _could_ tell her today…the only thing really at stake was their friendship, but if he could continue to illicit reactions like the one he had just viewed, then maybe it _was_ really okay…He could even approach this academically if he wished—it would just require further testing…if she continued to accept subtle touches from him then he would tell her…if not…

He frowned at his orange juice glass as he picked it up. But wasn't _he_ always the one to stand up for love when no one else would? How could he really be himself if he was hiding in this way? She had to be told…he had to say something. He opened his mouth just as Minerva laid her hand on his arm. Shocked, he almost upset the glass.

Despite his racing heart and shaky breathing, Minerva didn't seem to notice as he carefully set it back upon the table. "Albus, could you spare another uninterrupted meeting for me? I would like to discuss this more in full…"

Albus turned to look at her, knowing at once he could not deny her anything. "Of course, my dear, but shouldn't you discuss this with someone more qualified? I am sure I could find a lawyer who would best suit—"

"I appreciate it Albus, but I prefer the help of a friend in this case if you don't mind. I'm still having trouble wrapping my head around all of this…"

_You aren't the only one_ he thought in amazement. "You certainly seem to be as in control as you ever were, my dear," he complimented truthfully. "In fact, if you had not told me, I never would have suspected anything was amiss."

The blush returned. Albus stared in wonderment; he couldn't be the cause of this! "Thank you, Albus. You have no idea what it means to me to hear you say that."

He couldn't help it and continued. (_Further testing_, he reasoned in his mind). "You've certainly always been a very capable woman, Minerva. Why on earth would that change now?"

He stunned her from all speech. Grinning and trying not to chuckle at this small success, all he heard her quietly say was, "Thank you."

Deciding he had caused her to suffer enough blushing in public for one day (such a stark difference! He distantly wondered if being pregnant had anything to do with it), he changed the subject. "When were you planning on having this 'meeting', to put it so bluntly?"

Minerva chewed over her schedule in her mind. "I have a free period…after lunch it seems, but if that doesn't work for you, I'm free this evening."

Albus sighed heavily. "Evening it'll have to be then—I've a meeting that's supposed to run straight through lunch and beyond it."

"How awful," she groaned empathetically. His heart swelled with love for her; he knew that she knew just how much he hated missing meals, but that didn't make her understanding taste any less sweet. "To what point are their purposeless ends supposed to meet this time?"

Dumbledore chortled. "Something about..." he frowned, trying his best to remember—he knew the list was on his desk in his office, but even envisioning the place didn't make the hazy list any clearer.

"Ah, I had forgotten," Minerva said suddenly. "Is that the one from eleven to one? It's about proposed budget cuts from the Board of Governors," she remarked sourly, punctuating her annoyance with a jab to her kipper.

"Indeed it is," he nodded, grateful Minerva had remembered—that would've bothered him until he was able to return to his desk! "How would I ever run this school without you?" he asked her seriously.

Minerva snorted. "I doubt it would run at all," she murmured dryly.

Albus laughed wholeheartedly. "Of that I don't doubt! You're always reorganizing things for me; I say my productivity has increased over thirty-five percent!"

"It's _twenty_-five percent, you buffoon. And that doesn't sound like a lot, but overtime, that translates to more sleep, which is precisely what an overworked headmaster needs."

"_Correct_, Professor McGonagall," he nodded to her and tipped his ordinary glass of orange juice in her direction before drinking it.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Albus almost upset the glass a second time, except with what was in his mouth included. "I do think it's a little early for toasts, don't you?"

Albus shook his head, and eying a nearby plate of toast, piled it on his plate. He turned a mischievous look in her direction and the fortitude Minerva was so practiced in upholding came crashing down. She guffawed.

"Albus, you are impossible," she said when she finally could breathe again, pushing her plate to the side and looking as though she were about to stand. "So what—?"

"Six, my dear," Albus replied before she could even get the words out. "We can take dinner there if you wish."

She nodded quickly. "Your foresight is impressive."

"Well, the glasses help."

Snorting and shaking her head again (and looking as though she was trying her best to not lose her composure _yet again_), Minerva finally stood and left the very happy Headmaster behind, and he ate all the toast on his plate—every piece of the ten that he had taken.

**Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ**

Minerva had dropped another bombshell. Only this time, she wasn't fully aware of it.

They had progressed through dinner rather normally as was their custom—lighthearted jokes and hearty laughter had permeated the atmosphere; Albus had almost forgotten that this was no ordinary dinner they were sharing as it had felt just like countless ones they had had before.

"Albus, I'm sorry I didn't remember this earlier—" he had smiled at her, fully intending to forgive her for whatever mishap had happened earlier, but then she continued, "—but before I told you the…news—" she seemed even reluctant to voice her 'condition'. He made a mental note to further inquire the reason. "—you had something to tell me and I completely interrupted you. What were you about to say?"

The floor was ripped from beneath him and he was falling toward the center of the earth; he hadn't even prepared himself! There was no speech, no flowers, no romantic candles nor music, no chocolates, no gift… there was no amount of wooing anywhere. He couldn't just openly admit this! There had to be a build-up of some kind…didn't there? He wasn't used to confessing love to just any woman either; surely such news would require some contemplation about the hows and whys of delivery. But because he had been so happy earlier at breakfast, and the meeting was just as short as was intended, and he was happy he'd be spending the evening with her again, even if for 'business' reasons… it had completely escaped his attention. And now she was staring at him expectantly, waiting for news he just couldn't tell her yet.

"Albus?"

She was _so_ lovely tonight (not that she didn't normally look it), but her concern seemed to grow as his silence lengthened and by the time he found some words to work with, she was even more radiant. _How_ was this possible? He thought beauty was just an inerrant thing that all women possessed; some even more than others. _How_ could she be this lovely? She could easily outshine them all.

"Is…" he took several deep breaths, the easygoing manner of before having vanished from him entirely. "Is this all this dinner meeting revolves around? What I didn't say this morning?"

She nodded, her hair casting an iridescent sheen as she did so. Albus clenched both hands together in order to control the impulse to unknot the captive hair and just run his fingertips through it; by its appearance, he judged it would be almost unbearably silky... "I apologize for having sprung this on you—"

"No no, that is quite alright, Minerva," he soothed her easily, wishing he knew a way to soothe himself. "This is indeed, something I should have shared long ago…"

She scooted closer in her seat. Mere inches separated them; he could reach out and touch her…

"Well, what is it? Is it—something to do with me?"

_It has everything to do with you_. He paused, "Well…not exactly. It's—it's more to do with me…"

She continued to wait for him to speak, but he couldn't reveal any further. He didn't want it to be so out in the open like this anyway, with his hands shaking and his heart racing and his mind a complete blank…He wanted it to be the most sincere thing he had ever said to her…

"Actually, Albus," she finally voiced as his silence continued, "if you don't wish to tell me now, that's perfectly fine. Perhaps I should have just let you say it earlier…whatever it is. Is it easier to say when it's daylight? Perhaps I should have warned you beforehand that _this_ is what I wanted to discuss."

He could think of very good reasons why it'd be easier to say in the daytime…like after she had woken up in his bed after spending the night with him for the first time. With a sunrise to accompany it, that would truly make the reveal glorious! But…he couldn't think of getting her there anyway until after he told her how he felt; Minerva just wasn't that kind of woman—it was one of the many reasons why he respected her so.

"Yes…Yes, I think it's easier to say when it's day," he finally said with much relief, his anxiety immediately ebbing. "I'm sorry you have wasted an entire evening _waiting_ for me to say something I could not say." He knew her curiosity was keener than even his own, but the fact that she was not pressing him now must mean she cared about him a great deal. As mediocre of a reason, it warmed him a lot to think of it.

To his great surprise, Minerva smiled at him. "I wouldn't call the entire evening _wasted_ Albus—I do very much enjoy your company. I believe my evening would have been rather dull otherwise, so thank you for agreeing to this in the first place."

He could not control the impulse; not this time. He took her hand lying innocently on the table, brought it to his lips and kissed it. "And I yours, my dear."

She blushed and looked away from him as he released her, an almost imperceptible smile on her face. The same sense of wonder that had enveloped him at breakfast swirled within him again.

After a few moments, Albus said, "That reminds me, my dear. Forgive me for being so upfront, but am I the only person you have told about your…" he was hesitant to voice it himself since she was not. "…condition? If so, I am immensely flattered, but Poppy would have my head if she knew I had kept something of this magnitude from her."

Minerva chuckled. "It's too early for her to do anything yet anyway. In many ways, I should not know already, but being an Animagus—"

"—would give you the idea. How marvelous. I had no idea of this secondary trait. How _did_ you find out, my dear, if I may ask?"

Minerva gave him a rueful grin. "Let's just say that transforming wasn't the same experience as before…I felt like I had swallowed an elephant whole, but knowing that this was not the case, I came to my own conclusion after casting a few spells of my own. And perhaps it wasn't wise to transform in the first place, but I was unaware until then. I assume the baby does not transform with me, but I am still unsure…I've never read about anyone utilizing their Animagus abilities while pregnant, but I still do not believe it to be the safest thing."

"Indeed, I have not read nor heard anything on it either, but you must remember Animagi are far and few; I suspect there would be little need for it to be researched. And it would be interesting, having you as a subject to study the effects of it, but I fear it is as you have concluded; the baby does not transform and seeing as your form is considerably smaller than a human, it would be quite an unnecessary risk to try and test this theory."

They both ruminated in their own thoughts for a few minutes until Albus suggested they abandon the dinner table and move toward his loveseat with relaxing cups of tea. Minerva agreed and as soon as they sat down together, side-by-side, Albus suddenly realized he had made a terrible mistake. How on _earth_ was he to control himself now? He was entirely too aware of her presence next to him; her sweet perfume, the warmth emanating from her body…

Nevertheless, great men pressed on despite their troubles! He smiled as he set his cup and saucer down and said, "I only asked about whether or not Poppy was aware because I care about you a great deal, my dear—" _darling darling darling_. She would one day be his darling, his love…she was already his everything.

Minerva turned to face him and her eyes were strangely bright as she looked at him. She smiled. "I figured as much. You're a very sweet man, Albus." She set her teacup and its saucer down and laid her left hand on his arm and he'd be damned—he _had_ to continue on that vein! He might never get a chance again! It was like he had been given the bait he was searching for…now the uphill climb for a male salmon was treacherous, but he would make it!

"You mean much more to me than an ordinary professor, my dear. I'd be concerned about any of the female staff if they were to share such news with me, it is true—" he took a deep breath, hoping this flight of fancy would clear the climb. "—but I'd be far more concerned about you…"

She frowned, apparently perplexed. Her hand was still on his arm. "Why is that Albus?" she asked. "I am perfectly capable of handling things on my own—my pregnancy notwithstanding."

His heart was pounding again. "That is just it, my dear. When you are faced with something, it's always by yourself isn't it? Let me be clear; I _do not_ pity you, but this news along with the news I have not yet divulged…I could not bear leaving you on your own, once again." He took more deep breaths, wondering why on earth he hadn't changed into his fancy 'breathe-easy' robes; then he wouldn't be sweating at all. "My dear Minerva," he said with as much sincerity as he could muster, taking both of her hands in his as he looked into her eyes. "I love you."

The reason for their brightness was finally revealed; Minerva's eyes spilled over as she began to cry. Albus let her hands go and she messily attempted to wipe her tears with the backs of her hands. Albus extracted a pink polka-dotted handkerchief from a pocket in his robes and scooted closer to her. "Here, use this," he said softly, handing it to her, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms and never let go (after all, revealing something that had been weighing heavily on his mind for _years_, he felt like king of the mountain), but he needed her to say the same thing first.

Minerva wiped her eyes, but it didn't make much difference; she was still crying. "Thank you Albus," her voice surprisingly calm and even as her eyes continued to spill. Albus took note that she was extremely tense and it came to him at once; she wasn't letting herself sob.

"Minerva…"

And it was just like before, when he had found her in her rooms that night when Matthew had abandoned her again. She gave a quiet whimper and Albus gestured her forth. She hesitated for the briefest of moments before he had an armful of Minerva once again, but still he schooled himself—he didn't allow his hands to roam and kept them firmly on her back and only allowed himself the barest hint of strokes. Perhaps it was the subtle movement of his hands, but Minerva's self-control crumbled and she sobbed.

"I'm sorry… I'm being…stu—stupid."

Albus sighed, but said firmly, "No. No my dear, never. You could never be stupid to me…"

At this she cried more, but controlled herself enough to say, "No, I—I am because—"

She twisted herself out of his grasp, and slightly alarmed, Albus let her go but was prepared to do anything should the need arise.

But his fears were unfounded as Minerva only looked at him and surely registered the fear in his eyes. "You poor thing," she whispered, her fingers brushing his cheek and threading through his long, silver hair. "You would think," she said, her voice regaining its former luster as her eyes only occasionally overfilled now. "—that after telling you things I tell no one else and spending countless evenings with you when I could find another man instead—" he certainly had no doubts about that; she was undeniably desirable, "—that one would—including you even—automatically assume I loved you already, but as you've already proven, assuming things is never a good thing. With that look on your face, you must have figured I would reject you and storm out, scandalized you would even say such a thing." He opened his mouth to answer, but Minerva placed her hand on his lips and smiled. "I love you _very_ much myself, Albus, but I didn't think I could ever tell you, what with the divorce and everything else…and I think I always have. You were always there for me when Matthew wasn't. I was just afraid you would assume I only wanted to bed you in order to make this child seem legitimate to the public eye or some hogwash like that. You know a lot of people are going to automatically assume it's a bastard child…"

Albus roared with laughter and took her hand in his. "It appears…" he choked between rounds of mirth, "that the saying 'great minds think alike' is very true indeed. I _also_ feared that you would assume the same thing my dear—that I would only tell you this now _just_ to warm your sheets at night seeing as you no longer have a husband and were subsequently single…but I don't want to limit ourselves. A relationship with you should be everything I have ever dreamed about, and not merely constituted to night-time activities. You are worth _far_ more than that to me, my love."

He kissed the hand he held and crept closer to her. She smiled at him, so he had no doubts about continuing further, and pulled her into his embrace once more, but finally gave her a kiss that he had been so aching for her to have. It was warm, deep, and inviting; filling a part of him that he was almost unaware that had been empty. He could kiss and kiss and never have his fill! Such was the sweetness of her…

Albus broke the kiss with a groan and sighed as he took her in beauty again. She had shut her eyes and she slowly opened them to look at him, and the softest of looks appeared on her face, such that he had never beheld before. He brought his hands to the apples of her cheeks, kissed her forehead, and moved his hands toward her abdomen.

"I love you, Minerva," he said again, "and I would also love this child, if you gave me the permission; he would be my own—there would be no difference. I am only sorry you believed Matthew to be your only chance at love; I would have gladly given you children."

Minerva's eyes welled with tears again. "I can think of no man better suited," she breathed, touching his face. "I love you too, Albus."

At affirming his worthiness to claim her child as also his own, he swept her into his arms once more and bestowed kiss after kiss upon her face, seeming to know exactly how to please her without her even telling him. The moans he drew from her quickly became more elongated, which only strove to burn the fires within him brighter than ever before.

Finally, when he could barely draw breath from the fierceness of his desire, one word abruptly made him cease: _"Stop."_ More than a little disappointed, but willing to wait, Albus stopped the progression of his hands that were moving up and down the sides of her—dangerously close to forbidden territory.

Minerva was breathless. "We—you—we should…wait. At least, for now—" she panted, as overcome as he. Albus smiled and brushed her sweaty brow with his fingertips.

"Agreed, my dear." And when all was said and done, he kissed her forehead and drew her gently to him, and though it was certainly not the first time he had held her, the feeling it evoked was sweeter than ever before; she loved him. She loved _him_. The woman he loved loved him in return. It was almost too much to understand…

Minerva sighed in his embrace and toyed with the beard beneath her cheek. Albus smiled again and kissed the top of her head.

"I suppose a period of wooing must be observed," he reasoned. "After all, we cannot suddenly begin courting for no reason at all."

Minerva snickered. "Not that either course would matter much to me," she voiced quietly, gently rubbing his chest with the heel of her hand. He shivered at the unfamiliar yet very welcome contact, which only made her continue.

"Alright, so it is agreed. A period of wooing first…"

"Well, we need to determine if I even like you first. It would be highly unlikely for me to suddenly like _any_ wizard that should start drooling over me."

"Minerva! I am wounded!" he called dramatically, bringing her closer and stroking her back as he did so. "I love you very much, my dear," he breathed softly into her ear. "I would do _anything_ to keep you—you are indeed, invaluable."

She was silent, but then, "If I am invaluable, I expect to be given things stated as such," she bit back sarcastically.

Now it was Albus's turn to laugh. "Of course, my dear. Anything for you."

The hour at last, grew late, and Albus insisted on escorting Minerva back to her rooms. The guise was out of concern for her, but what he really wanted was to spend at least a few more moments in her presence—now he was sure his feelings were returned, he was reluctant to let her out of his sight; what if it had all been a dream designed to torment him? If it were a product of his enemies, he would thank them once it was over, but for now, he contented himself with living this incredible dream.

"Thank you Albus, for a lovely dinner," she said. It was late and she lingered near her doorway. It was very unlikely students would be about…

"No no, my dear, I thank you for the lovely company," he whispered back to her, and now that she was looking at him, he advanced upon her before she could be scandalized about students catching them in the darkness. He drew both arms around her, and kissed her hard enough to leave her feeling breathless, before withdrawing gently, softly, one kiss at a time. When he was finally through, her emerald eyes were deliciously dark and she looked entirely lost. He couldn't help but grin at her and took one of her hands in his own.

"Goodnight, my dear," he said before he kissed it. "I hope you sleep well."

"Goodnight Albus," she whispered. He turned to leave, but as he stepped away from the threshold, he heard three words he simply could not ignore. "I love you."

With great speed, he was rushing back, and he pinned her against her door, kissing her within an inch of her life. When he withdrew this time, she was panting again and he whispered back to her tremulously, breathing as hard as she was, "I love you too, my darling sweet Minerva. Do not—_ever_—doubt it."

"I won't," she breathed. He could not help but touch her again, and he brought his right hand to her cheek, stroking it as she brought both of her hands together to clasp his arm. She was looking at him with the reckless adoration he had seen her wear the last day she had been his student. It made him want nothing more to spend the night; he could never recall wanting something in his life as badly as he did her, but he would certainly wait. Perhaps he could even steal her away to a lovely place for breakfast the following morning; it would give him an excuse to see her earlier than was customary… Yes, he would do that.

This time, he stepped away and did not return. As he walked off to his rooms, he heard Minerva's door wheeze open and click shut just as he rounded the corner.

**Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ**

The following morning dawned cold and rainy—perfect weather for the plants the second years were working with this month. Professor Sprout was glad of this; there was nothing worse than a mandrake who hadn't received enough rainwater while he was growing up. Of course, conjured magical water would suffice, but there were properties (such as essential minerals) missing from it that rainwater had in abundance.

So it was with a cheerful heart the Herbology professor made her way to breakfast, and even she counseled a few running students to walk lest the wrath of a certain well-known Transfiguration professor come down upon them. The second year Ravenclaws gazed at her open-mouthed before walking away with much trepidation, afraid to stir that ire, and rightly so—Minerva was a very formidable witch and did not take kindly to that sort of behavior.

But the warning had been unnecessary, for when Pomona found her seat at the head table, Professor McGonagall was nowhere to be seen. Pomona frowned, thinking this was a bit off since it was early and quite time for the professor to be at breakfast, before noticing an envelope already sitting on her plate, bearing her name. Confused, she slit the letter open:

_My dear Pomona,_

_As you may have already guessed, I have taken your very well-intended advice to heart—it should explain the absence of myself and another professor you hold in fond acquaintance. I can do little more than thank you for giving me the final push which would drive me to action, as I had been quite unsuccessful with convincing myself, and so I thank you with a very full heart. She has accepted me and I feel it is very much due to you that I had the idea to say such things in the first place. I believe that the school can at last make an exception to the expense of the whomping willow you have been chattering so amicably about for the last three years; you will choose its new home on the grounds, as long as it is far enough away from any curious first years._

_Forever in your debt,  
Albus Dumbledore_

Pomona grinned, and clapped her hands together conspiratorially until she read the postscript. _I respectfully deny your request for a raise, though I encourage the request be placed next year as well. Perhaps then I will find myself more generous._ And though she was disappointed by it, she almost snorted at the symbol which followed it—it was clear the headmaster had been around young people for far too long during his extraordinary life:◠◡◠


End file.
